


The Garden

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: Televoid! (Web Series)
Genre: shout out to watson we are actually both president of the company, some mentions of pain/death but not enough to warrant an archive warning i dont think, unreality things, watch out i guess dfgjhfghj, why arent my tags saving in order bro i dont like it here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: Ian goes through the door.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> today, the discord discovered that televoid is the only series thats considered "completed" on ians website, and we cried about it together for a while. and then i speedran this mess because ive had this idea since,, i think late 2018 augh dfhjgf, and i wanted to pay my respects :orb:
> 
> this concept is heavily inspired by hi im mary mary, i had it in,,, late 2018 when himm wasnt even finished yet, so it isnt yknow,,, too exactly similar, but still big shout outs to the creator of that webseries, k ily!!! and you should all watch himm bc it is so good and its completed now!! maybe it will,, Fill the Void aahaha.. but okay yeah fdjhdf here y'all go, hope you enjoy :^)

When Ian’s hand touched the doorknob, it almost felt like a shock; like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.

He could admit that he had grown cynical, after all this time, and he kind of wasn’t… expecting it to be _real._ Maybe it _wasn’t_ real, maybe it was still _just an illusion-_ one that just so happened to be sophisticated enough to include the sensation of touch. Or maybe, the Void was just making him _think_ he was touching it- he knew how it could and _would_ often mess with his head. There were no limits Ian knew of as to how far the Void would go with things like this.

But nevertheless, the sensation was there. Cold, metallic, solid, and that was… certainly, more than Ian could have possibly expected. 

He couldn’t even truly _begin_ to wrap his head around the fact that the door _existed-_ this brilliant white anchor in an endless sea of Void, this fixture of hope, a potential _escape,_ that must have been out here, all this time.

Ian couldn’t say how long he had followed Frank for; but it was a _long_ time, certainly further out than Ian had ever wandered before. Part of himself was upset he hadn’t stumbled upon it earlier, if it really had been here _all this time_ \- but logically, the likelihood of him finding it on his own had to be next to zero. There was really no way to navigate the Void- and he had no idea how Frank did it. 

He had no idea where the couch was, what direction he had come from, and he almost certainly wouldn’t be able to find his way back- unless the Void felt like warping him back, or something. And so, that left him with no choice but to deal with the door.

The metal was actually, _really_ cold against his hand; not quite to the painful degree, but it was almost like holding onto an ice cube. He didn’t know if that was meant to... _imply_ anything, but hey, it was kind of refreshing. The white paint kind of hurt his eyes, though; which made enough sense, as he’d been looking at nothing but a dim TV screen and endless black for… _so long._ And quietly, seemingly behind the door, there was this buzzing, _staticky_ sound, which…

Ian could admit, he wasn’t particularly excited about.

If there was any implication behind that sound, Ian wasn’t expecting it to be a positive one- for all he knew, this could be just another extension of the void, another _trick,_ maybe even a _trap- what if this killed him?_

Maybe it would torture him, electrocute him, destroy what little remained of his hope and _whatnot_ \- but Ian had to say, if it killed him, that would be rather uncharacteristic of the Void.

But maybe it was finally his time. Maybe that would be just _fine._ From what Ian could see behind the door, before it slammed shut behind Frank- there was nothing but _static-_ and so maybe it was _finally_ his time to descend into the great big _nothing,_ the _greater Void._ Maybe he was finally done; maybe the Void was literally _showing him the door._

Maybe. 

There was only one way to find out.

Ian closed his eyes as he tried to turn the doorknob, fearing the worst- but the quiet _click_ of success made Ian’s heart start racing. _God,_ that would have been a whole other problem if it was _locked-_ but it was okay, _it was okay._

Still keeping his eyes shut, he tugged on the doorknob; and the low buzzing behind the door suddenly turned to… sounds Ian recognized, but he couldn’t even _begin_ to place them.

Right away, there was wind; blowing Ian’s hair back, almost fluttering his hoodie, the air rushing past his ears- and Ian couldn’t begin to understand. Furthermore, there was the sound of waves crashing, of leaves rustling in the wind, of gulls crying distantly; he had never thought about what gulls sound like, he wasn’t sure how he _knew,_ but he did- and it was almost starting to hurt his head, the _rush_ of it all, the pounding in his chest like his heart was about to give out.

He opened his eyes, and a word to describe what he was seeing immediately popped into his head- and he wasn’t sure why, but he found it quite fitting.

Before him, he saw… what he assumed was an island. A narrow strip of rocky beach separated the sea from an incredible mass of _green,_ trees reaching up to the skies with an expansive cover of leaves, flowers and plants that he couldn’t really make out from so far away, but he could just _tell_ that they were _real-_ and so was the sea, and so was the sky, and-

Ian couldn’t even begin to comprehend what this was- but he decided that he would call it _the Garden._

Maybe the Garden was connected to the rest of the world, somehow. Maybe this was how he escaped, maybe he could finally _get help-_

And oh _god,_ he didn’t think he had ever _wanted anything in his life_ nearly as much as he wanted the Garden.

It seemed like the door was floating, which was interesting. There was quite a bit of water in between him and the Garden; he had no idea if he even knew how to swim, but if he didn’t, then he’d just have to _figure it out._ He _needed_ to get there, the same way he needed to breathe- he’d just taken his first breath of fresh air in _Void knows how long._

Taking a deep breath, shaking himself out, and tossing his hoodie to the floor of the Void-

Ian jumped. 

\---

The sun was setting in the Garden, which meant that time was actually passing- a very good sign.

Ian was very cold, and still very wet, even hours after crawling onto the shore- but that didn’t really matter to him. He _made it,_ which was the important part. He probably didn’t actually know how to swim, and he definitely swallowed some saltwater, but he _made it._

And it was worth every second of nearly drowning and coughing his lungs out afterwards; the Garden was beautiful. 

He could spend hours analyzing every single plant, every flower, every tree- he didn’t know if he would have ever considered himself to be an _outdoors-y_ kind of person before, but _by god,_ he did now. He couldn’t name any of the plants, of course; but the trees were so _leafy_ and pretty, and there were these shrubs with red stalks and little white berries that he thought looked cool, and there were these little white-ish, pink-ish flowers that almost looked like lit torches; and he could go on and on about _every single thing_ he saw, he could never get sick of it. _Screw old TV shows, this shit is where it’s at._

But soon, the sun was setting. He wasn’t exactly tired, but the lack of light made it a lot harder to see; and he supposed there was another great victory in having _the sun_ at all. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d last slept. He supposed it didn’t really matter- he didn’t _really_ sleep in the Void, not in any meaningful way.

But now… god, there was another little victory everywhere Ian looked, and he was _over the fucking moon._

Luckily, he’d made his way back to the shore in time to watch the sun set over the sea. And sitting in the grass, holding himself in pursuit of a bit of extra warmth, it occurred to him that technicolor could _never_ really do this justice. 

The door was gone; there was no blemish upon the magnificent saturation of the sunset. Orange bled into pink, into purple, and slowly, stars began to shine through the veil. Not even any gulls could be seen, although Ian could still hear them, somewhere distantly. All there was, was the sky, the sun, and the sea.

Ian could (albeit, sheepishly) admit that he’d been… crying, kind of a lot, this entire time- but he couldn’t deny, this sight in particular had reduced him to a sobbing wreck. It was just _so beautiful,_ and there was still so much he didn’t understand, so much that maybe he _never would-_ but it was all _so, so beautiful,_ and that transcended everything else. 

He didn’t want to see a stupid old TV set, or a stupid fake potted plant _ever again._ He could have died, right in that exact spot, of hypothermia or a brain aneurysm or whatever the hell- and he would have died perfectly happy. _This_ was the best thing that had ever happened to Ian. _Hands fucking down._

He supposed that this really was his victory. This was his freedom, his _reward._

Had he been a good host?

Seemingly so.

As the sky faded to black and stars began to shine above him like the ever-comfortable eyes of the audience, he laid down on his side. It wasn’t perfect, and now he was especially regretting getting rid of his hoodie, he could have really used a pillow; but it was good enough. The grass was soft, his hand served well enough as a pillow, and of course- he would easily, _easily,_ take this over another meaningless rest on the couch in the Void. 

And in bliss, he drifted off to sleep.

\---

Ian had been in the Garden for a very long time.

He’d never been good at keeping track of time, but many nights had passed, and the shore he started on was now very far away.

He spent a lot of time staring at plants, gazing in awe at any hill or river or lake, exploring the Garden like a little kid in his backyard- but he had been here for a very long time, and the allure was starting to wear off.

It was still all incredibly beautiful, no doubt about it; but as time passed, some other thoughts began to plague his mind. 

For one; he still didn’t know for sure what all this was meant to be. If this was the outside world, or another little contained universe- if he was really free, or if this was only a temporary respite. He couldn’t fully settle on the evidence for either concept.

Secondly, he… hadn’t eaten, since he’d been in the Void. Or had any water, which seemed like it might be a problem, especially considering how much he had been crying earlier. He wasn’t… hungry, or thirsty, by any means, but it was still concerning; he didn’t have much to live off of in the Void, but he had those stupid banana cakes, at least. Now, he just wasn’t hungry at all.  
  


Maybe he’d transcended past the mortal need for it. He wasn’t sure if he cared yet.

Third, and maybe most concerningly, he… still hadn’t seen those gulls he kept hearing.

That wasn’t _that_ much of a problem, of course- gulls were loud, maybe he had been hearing them from miles away, and gulls were kind of scary, anyway- so he didn’t necessarily _need_ to find them.

But the real problem was, he hadn’t been able to find… any other animals, either. Anywhere.

There were no other birds chirping up in the trees, no insects in the grass, no worms in the dirt; nothing. He still wasn’t really sure how to swim, so he didn’t look particularly hard, but he waded into one of the lakes a while back, and once again- he couldn’t find anything. No fish, no frogs, no bears- nothing. 

All there was, was the sound of the gulls- crying incessantly, like a memory on loop in the back of his mind.

He wasn’t _alone,_ alone. He was surrounded by life, all the trees and shrubs and flowers; but… seemingly, there wasn’t anything else. Certainly not any people.

Without a doubt, this was _leagues above_ the Void, because he had the sun in the sky, and actual _things_ to see, and countless _real,_ living plants to keep him company, rather than just that one stupid fake plant- but still, he was… alone.

…

There had to be someone out there. Somewhere. The world was very large, and maybe he was miles and miles away from civilization, but he would _get to them._ He had to.

Or maybe, Frank would find him out here. The door must have brought him somewhere, hadn’t it? Maybe he’d find a stash of empty beer bottles in a bush somewhere, or bits of fake fur caught on a thorn- he just wanted _something._ Maybe Stinky could be out here, and they could hang out under a tree, Ian could pick fruit off the trees for him or something- there just _had_ to be something.

Maybe- _hopefully,_ he’d find civilization eventually, and maybe he’d finally meet the audience, face to face. Maybe they’d all surround him and rejoice, celebrating that he was finally home safe, and he wouldn’t be so _cold_ anymore. 

He had earned this. Had he not earned his freedom?

\--- 

There were objects- maybe _artifacts-_ that implied humans _were_ out here at some point. A couple times, Ian had stumbled upon bridges. Nothing extraordinary; a couple were wooden, most were concrete. Once, he had found what looked like the entire rusted exterior of a car, but there was little inside. Around these places, and in spots where there was only smooth stone, sometimes there was graffiti. Almost always faded, and consistently illegible; but each of them implied that at some point, _someone_ had been there.

That had to mean something, right?

There were _still_ no animals, still no actual civilization, still nothing _recent-_ and Ian was getting so, so tired of being alone.

At least the Void had Frank. And Stinky. And the audience, sometimes. None of them were there very often, but they had _been there_ at certain points, and that was more than Ian could say for the Garden. He still wouldn’t admit that he missed anything relating to the Void; but he just… really wished anybody, or _anything_ was around.

The Garden was beautiful; why didn’t he get to share it with anyone?

Others were deserving too, weren’t they?

Frank was the one who led him to the door, after all; and he went through. Where was he?

Ian didn’t understand. It had been so long, he’d been wondering and trying to think for _months,_ by that point- and he still had nothing. What was this place supposed to even _be?_

Things were supposed to grow in a Garden, weren’t they? There were countless trees and shrubs and flowers here, sure, but they all seemed _done_ growing.

This was his Garden, he believed. What was he supposed to do, then?

How was he meant to grow if he was the _only_ thing here? No soil, no water, no sunlight, no capacity for life; how was he meant to grow in an endless vacuum, another _goddamn void?_

Why was he even calling it the Garden? What put that thought into his head?

Was this really just…

…

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d _ever_ figure it out; but he needed to.

He wanted to love the Garden. He had been loving it all this time, unconditionally, even though it was empty and he didn’t understand it; he just wanted some answers, another _reason_ to love it. Something to prove him wrong, or maybe even right- he just didn’t know.

Something. Anything.

\---

Somehow- _some-fucking-how-_ he’d gone in a massive circle.

Ian was back at the beach; those same damn leafy trees, those same shrubs with red stalks and little white berries, those same white-ish, pink-ish flowers that looked like lit torches, the _same_ narrow, rocky beach. _God fucking damn it._

He’d been throwing rocks into the ocean for hours, just to vent some of his frustration. It really wasn’t working. 

_All this fucking time,_ any sort of progress he had made towards civilization, was all wasted. Somehow, apparently, he’d gotten entirely turned around, and he had no fucking idea how much longer it would take him to find _anything_ again. 

Why wasn’t he capable of fucking getting _anywhere?_ Not in the Void, and not here. He still just _didn’t understand._ Or actually, a better question; why couldn’t he _get it?_ Why couldn’t he be sure about a single fucking thing? 

Maybe this was just an extension of the Void, after all. Maybe there wasn’t anything out there. Maybe he was trapped here, forever- and sure, it was nicer looking than the Void, but he was _so fucking lonely-_ he just wanted someone. Something. Anyone. Anything. Frank, Stinky, redacted emails from the printer, whatever _bastard_ trapped him here; _anyone, anything._

_Please._

Ian didn’t know who he was begging to. God, he supposed, but he couldn’t imagine he was listening. Or that he was even there.

_Why_ wasn’t anyone there? Why were there man-made things around, but no _real_ people? Had some apocalyptic event wiped out every living creature on the planet while Ian was away? Surely not- the plants were living creatures, weren’t they? What _event_ could do such a thing?

Maybe he had earned his freedom, on a technicality of the term; but he hadn’t earned any company. Maybe he never would. Maybe he wasn't as good of a host as he was led to believe; and it made sense that he would end up in a place like this, considering how the Void _always_ treated him.

He was beginning to think that was worse.

He hated the Void with every fiber of his being; he would never _not,_ but…

Maybe another old TV show wouldn’t be so bad. 

Maybe, if he were unfortunate enough to actually end up back in the Void, he wouldn’t be such a coward anymore, and he’d keep that antenna up, just to see what happens. Maybe he’d choke himself on Sara Lee banana cakes and find out if he was allowed to die this time- but he had a feeling it probably wouldn’t work. Maybe a little bit of static screaming in his ears would serve as a decent companion. He’d appreciate _anything_ at this point. And if the stupid gulls could just _go away,_ that would be _great_ as well.

Slowly, the sun began to set. The colors of the sky were magnificent and all, but Ian was just... so _tired_ of it. He’d take any old technicolor display over this. He couldn’t take it anymore.

And as the oranges and pinks and purples of the sunset faded to black, the stars began to shine through the veil.

Ian didn’t try to sleep; he just laid on his back in the grass, staring up at the stars.

And slowly, _slowly_ \- after hours of staring-

  
  
  


The stars turned red.

**Author's Note:**

> this didnt help the problem of ian ending televoid without answering anything im sorry fgdhjfh


End file.
